WBWB | Chapter 3

‘Wouldn’t it be better to just die here?’

At that time, my spirit was as weak as my dying body.

‘Just like this… so naturally…’

I was a member of the aristocratic world, even if only in name, and now I was suddenly reduced to an exile. My future was bleak, and living was more frightening than dying.

‘If only I could die.’

Wouldn’t it be better to just die?

As I thought this, the wet towel placed on my forehead kept getting warmer, and my consciousness flickered on and off. Unidentifiable voices chattered and faded around my ears.

After an unknown amount of time, a powerful, deep voice, different from the ones I’d been hearing, echoed from above.

“The exile was due over a month ago. What’s going on here?”

It was an unfamiliar man’s voice.

“And why is this woman dying? Was she tortured before arriving here?”

The voice was surprisingly resolute and powerful, enough to momentarily hold onto my consciousness, which wavered like a dying candle, briefly brightening and fading again.

“Did they plan to blame the barbarians again if she died here after being tortured just enough to survive exile? That we’re still uncivilized and treat exiles cruelly and unfairly?”

A seemingly apologetic reply from the escort officer followed, though I couldn’t understand it. I was curious who the owner of the unfamiliar voice was, but I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes even when I tried to. Mustering my last bit of energy, I strained my ears.

“So, she’s in this state simply from arriving here, without even being tortured? Even after Young Master Mael… lent his own steed?”

Then, with a voice laced with incomprehension, my body was suddenly lifted.

“I’ll take charge of her now.”

Held like a rope in strong, muscular arms.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, the dazzling ceiling fresco, so ornate that it almost hurt to look at, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a rounded ceiling with exposed stone came into view. This was not the architectural style I was accustomed to in the palace.

That’s right.

This wasn’t the royal palace.

“Ugh…”

The moment I tried to lift my upper body, a groan escaped my lips, and I had no choice but to collapse back down. My body had grown so weak from illness that even the slightest movement was a struggle.

‘I’m still alive.’

But I was alive, in this unfamiliar place.

My senses gradually returned, and I felt a remarkably soft touch against my back. Turning my head and running my hand over it, I found a smooth, unstained cloth. Not the hard plank bed and damp, dirty cloth I had become accustomed to that had felt as if they would break my back, but a soft mattress covered in fresh, clean sheets.

‘Where am I?’

As I slowly looked around, I became bewildered. Looking beneath the bed, I was met with a thick layer of smoke so dense that I couldn’t see the floor. The smoke slowly slithered upward, creeping towards the bed.

Startled, I jumped off the bed. The chilling touch of the stone floor reached my bare feet, along with a stinging pain in my inner thighs.

Engulfed in a thick smoke that obscured everything around me, I instinctively covered my nose and mouth with my hands and stumbled out of the room in a panic.

“You’re awake.”

Opening the door revealed a hallway, which was also shrouded in thick smoke.

At that moment, a man came out, parting the smoke like a curtain. He was a large man, someone I might have mistaken for a bear if I had seen him in the forest. Frightened, I clung to him, even though I didn’t know who he was.

“There’s a fire! We have to get out of here!”

“This is fog.”

A blunt reply came.

“I don’t know about Franc, but this place is often covered in fog.”

‘Fog?’

Now that he mentioned it, the smoke wasn’t acrid or hot. Rather, it was damp and cold.

‘Oh my…’

Realizing the situation, I blushed. The man looked down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Will you let go now?”

“I apologize.”

Releasing my grip from both hands and stepping back, I finally got a good look at him. 

He was at least a head taller than the men of the South, with broad shoulders and long arms and legs, his head seeming almost too small in comparison, making him appear almost unreal. Black hair, pale skin, and piercing green eyes that gleamed like those of a serpent.

Most of the noblemen I had seen in the royal palace had blond hair and flaunted a peacock-like extravagance, changing their lace-trimmed clothes several times a day. However, this man seemed like a different species altogether. It wasn’t just his extremely simple attire, which was a white tunic that reached his knees and trousers.

‘He doesn’t seem… human.’

If one looked closely at his well-defined features, one might call him handsome, but I felt no attraction towards him. To begin with, he seemed like an entirely different species. A soft smile would have made him look much more handsome, but his eyes were cold as ice, and his gaze reminded me of a fierce wolf assessing its prey.

By the time I reached that thought, I realized I had been staring at him for too long. And he, too, had been watching me just as intently. Blushing, I lowered my head and curtsied.

“I am Jeanne de Toulouse.”

“Baldr de Skadi.”

‘De Skadi? So he’s…’

The ‘Duke of Skadi’ himself. I was overwhelmed with fear at this unexpected encounter.

‘What should I say? Should I explain why I’m here? That I was falsely accused? But would he even believe me even if I told him?’

Consumed by the fear of facing a member of the Skadi family for the first time, I remained silent for a while. Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, a strained, nervous voice escaped my lips.

“I…”

“I know about you already. From now on, I am your master.”

“…”

I flinched, and he slightly corrected himself.

“Your ‘guarantor’, that is.”

A guarantor was someone responsible for providing lodging and food for exiled criminals, ensuring their survival, and sharing the blame if the exile escaped. 

Yes, he was my jailer, here to prevent my escape.

“It’s been a long time since you were supposed to arrive, but there was no news, so I thought you had escaped. Or perhaps killed by wild animals. But upon searching, I found you on the brink of death at an inn at the edge of my territory. If I had waited for you to recover there, you would have died, so I personally brought you here.”

That’s why I was here when I woke up.

“Before your arrival, I received a letter from the King’s illegitimate son, whom I’ve never met. He meticulously explained that you were falsely accused and pleaded for your safety.”

I could feel the thorns embedded in the end of his words. In fact, he wasn’t even trying to hide his sarcasm.

“I would like to have dinner with you. What do you think?”

‘Dinner?’

I had no appetite at all, but I nodded.

“Then I’ll be going. Get some rest.”

And he disappeared, like the fog that had rolled in and now receded as if it had never been there.

* * *

‘What just happened?’

After he left, I stumbled back into the room, feeling dizzy, and collapsed onto the bed.

A moment later, a young-looking maid entered with a tray of food.

“I brought you something to eat.”

What she brought was stew. It was a mixture of various unidentified scraps of meat and vegetables, very similar to the “eternal stew” I had eaten at the shabby inns before arriving here. The kind of stew that never seemed to diminish because they kept adding ingredients and broth to the pot. It looked disgusting, but I wasn’t in a position to complain about the food in my place of exile.

‘I have to eat, regardless.’

The aftereffects of not eating properly while I was ill had suppressed my appetite, but I forced myself to swallow the food, thinking I needed to regain my strength. Then the maid spoke.

“Shall I prepare a bath for you?”

“Would you?”

A few hours later, the maid brought bathwater and filled a small bathtub in the bathroom. I sat in it and scrubbed myself repeatedly, using all my strength.

‘Did I really meet His Grace the Duke in this filthy state?’

Looking at the dirty water flowing out, I was appalled.